


Catastrophic Sapphics

by patentpending



Series: Powerless 'Verse [2]
Category: Sanders Sides (Web Series)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Fusion, Alternate Universe - Superheroes/Superpowers, Angst, Classism, Established Relationship, F/F, Fluff, Journalist / Vigilante relationship, Queer Women of Color, Superheroes, Supervillains, Thinly Veiled Criticism of Society, Trans Characters, Villain Dr. Emile Picani, Villain Sleep | Remy Sanders
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-20
Updated: 2019-12-20
Packaged: 2021-02-25 23:40:00
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,916
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21873814
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/patentpending/pseuds/patentpending
Summary: There was a note, tucked delicately on top of Kaimi’s floral couch.  With apprehension, Katrina crossed the room, pausing when something shifted beneath her feet.  She looked down.Sand.Definitely gonna miss those reservations now,she thought, a tad hysterically.The note was simple.  Five words.Come and get her, Calamity.Set in the Powerless universe!  It will make absolutely no sense if you haven't read that first.
Relationships: Anxiety | Virgil Sanders/Creativity | Roman "Princey" Sanders, Dr. Emile Picani/Sleep | Remy Sanders, Kaimi Alvi / Katrina "Calamity" Santos, Logic | Logan Sanders/Morality | Patton Sanders
Series: Powerless 'Verse [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1258430
Comments: 35
Kudos: 248





	Catastrophic Sapphics

**Author's Note:**

> What is UP everybody??? I cannot tell you how absolutely thrilled I was to get the darling @hijabi-princex (tumblr) for my secret Santa, because it has given me a most excellent excuse to finish this fic, which I have been working on, on and off, ever since June! I've missed my disaster lesbians, and I'm absolutely thrilled to be able to share one of their adventures with all of you.
> 
> Momo, I hope you like it!
> 
> Tws: Powerless-level graphic violence, accidental misgendering, kidnapping, guns and various other weaponry 
> 
> Also, note to avoid confusion: Remile uses he/they pronouns

Katrina didn't much like living in the city.

Oh, sure, she loved New Psyche, loved the people and the bodegas and the snippets of different languages filling the air, but a part of her missed the place she'd grown up – trees taller than skyscrapers and grassy hills rolling off into an endless horizon.

There weren't as many stars here.

True darkness, the type that tripped you up when walking and swaddled you up in apology, was hard to come by in the city. Even when Katrina closed the blinds and drew the curtains, puddles of street lights oozed into her room, bright enough to read by.

She hadn't wanted to move here, but after her parents' condition began to deteriorate, she hadn't had much of a choice.

As time went on, however, she didn't much mind. First, she became a vigilante. It wasn't a conscious decision so much as a series of incidental misunderstandings and wearing cowgirl clothes at the wrong time, but she ended up rolling with it, even after she lost her leg in a dingy back alley one dark October night.

Then came The Savior and The Prince. Then came the riot. Then came the boldest, most reckless, most wonderful girl in the world. Then came that fateful day in the clearing. Then, despite everything, came a family she'd never thought she could have.

Katrina never much liked living in the city.

Now, though, there were other incentives to stay.

  
  


It was taking Kaimi forever to get to the door.

Katrina “Calamity” Santos frowned, glancing first at her watch, then at the baby blue door before her.

“Peach?” She knocked again. “It's a’ight if you ain't ready yet. Betcha got caught up in some big story, huh?”

Still, silence.

Katrina worked her jaw, fidgeting with the sleeve of her tuxedo jacket. She grabbed her phone and fired off a quick text to the group chat.

_Disaster Ace: Kaimi with any of y'all?_

_Brendon Urie’s Husband: I thought you two were going on a date tonight._

_Disnerd: I've been at the theatre all day. Everything good?_

_Disaster Ace: Don't know. I'm at her apartment, but she's not answering the door._

_What's a Gender: that's weird. She isn't at Bake My Day either._

_Space Gay: Nor the planetarium._

_Disnerd: Just asked Joan, and they haven’t heard from her either._

_What's a Gender: something weird is cooking!_

_Brendon Urie’s Husband: not the time, Pat._

_What's a Gender: I MAKE PUNS WHEN I'M NERVOUS YOU KNOW THIS_

Katrina swallowed down a lump in her throat. Her phone continued to buzz in her hand, but she silenced it, tucking it away.

She had been afraid of this. Ever since the media released a photo of the vigilante Calamity kissing New Psyche’s once-star reporter, Kaimi Alvi, she had known this would happen.

“Sorry ‘bout this, doll,” she muttered before backing up and running full force at the door.

It shattered against her shoulder, and she staggered into Kaimi’s living room.

There was a note, tucked delicately on top of Kaimi’s floral couch. With apprehension, Katrina crossed the room, pausing when something shifted beneath her feet. She looked down.

Sand.

 _Definitely gonna miss those reservations now,_ she thought, a tad hysterically.

The note was simple. Five words.

_Come and get her, Calamity._

  
  


“You’re sure it’s him?” Patton fretted, plucking at the purple band around their wrist.

“Unless you know any other villains who leave a whole beach as their callin’ card, I’d have ta wager on it.” Calamity’s mouth was pressed into a firm line as she assessed her armory, tucking knives into her boots, strapping her shield to her back.

“You’ll need these too,” Virgil said, pressing into her hands a holster of small orbs, filled with sloshing liquid.

She squinted at one. “Hydrochloric acid?”

“Yup.”

She clicked her tongue. “Clever boy.”

“That is how you and Roman defeated him last time, is it not?” Logan hadn’t stopped wearing a hole in the carpet with his pacing since he heard the news, but now he looked up, dark eyes intent on the ex-hero and ex-villain.

“Partly,” Virgil said, picking at the side of his thumb. “Mostly it was just wearing him out.”

“Split his attention,” Roman said, putting his hand over Virgil’s. “He can’t do too much at one time.”

Calamity swung the holster over her shoulder, jaw set into a firm line. “I’ll be back with Kaimi in two shakes.”

Patton furrowed their brow. “Milkshakes?” They muttered to themself.

“Wait, what are the rest of us supposed to do?” Virgil demanded. “Stay here and knit?”

“Yes, and I'm expectin’ a scarf when I get back.” Calamity dropped a magazine into her gun. 

“Katrina.” Roman moved between her in the door, jaw set. “Look, I know I’m not…” He swallowed, rubbing at the scar that ran the length of his palm. “I know I’m not the best backup,” he settled on, “but I can help. I don’t want you facing the Sandman by yourself.”

Katrina sighed, looking into her best friend’s eyes. “Ro, I know you could handle this, but you and Virgil are off cape work for a reason.” She clasped his shoulder, squeezed. “I’ll be fine. Lo prometo.”

He wavered, but stepped aside with a short nod after Virgil quietly fit their hands together, metal pressed against scars.

“You sure?” Patton asked, fidgeting with the end of their skirt.

She flashed a grin at them. “New week, new world-endin’ threat, same ol’ routine.”

It wasn’t until she was outside, alone with Logan, that she let her smile fall. The two of them looked at each other, features so different, but expressions identical.

“Just…” Logan tugged on a lock of his hair, throat tight. “Please, just get her back safe.”

Calamity nodded, jaw set. “Or die tryin’.”

  
  


“So,” Kaimi said, swinging her feet and nodding her head in approval as she looked around the large, open room, filled with swirling tendrils of sand. “Nice place you got here.”

“Oh, why thank you!” The bespeckled man with the golden wedding ring beamed. “Rem was scared the observatory was a little cliché, but I said it was a good idea. If Steven Universe can get away with redeeming villains through the power of love, we can get away with an observatory.”

“It’s totally working,” Kaimi said. “What’d you think of the movie, by the way? Did the Diamonds influence your villainous plans?”

The man brightened, eyes practically sparkling through those thick frames. “Well, you see, the notoriety was all Remy’s idea, but I found myself thinking that, like the Diamonds, we should–”

“Emile, babe,” a high, nasally voice drawled, “we’re here to kidnap and threaten her, not make friends.”

The swirling clouds of sand around the room solidified, merging into the vague form of a man. The granules fell away, and there he was – The Sandman, with a ring around his finger and a starbucks drink in his hand.

He stalked forward, hips swaying, and wrapped his arms around Emile’s shoulders, reaching down to link their hands. Tucking his head on his husband’s shoulder, he pointed his face towards Kaimi, sunglasses slipping down to reveal eye sockets filled with macabre orbs of swirling sand.

“I feel very threatened,” Kaimi said soothingly. “Look, I’m even tied up!”

She made a show of wiggling the ropes around her wrists. The sand around her condensed, the blind man checking the knots.

Remy snorted. “Like you could take us on anyway.”

A flash of irritation hit her, but she pushed it down, layering honey into her voice. “I’m sure I couldn’t,” she sighed. “You’ve defeated ten supers by now, haven’t you?”

“A dozen,” Remy preened before dropping into a sulk. “I guess Bella Donna and Nightshade were too small for the media to care about or whatevs.”

Kaimi’s hands twitched, itching for a notepad. So that’s why the duo had disappeared.

“Which is why you’re here,” Remy sighed, sashaying around Emile to sit in his lap. “Your girlfriend is the hottest ticket around right now.” He leaned forward, smile sharp. “And I so can’t _wait_ to grind her into the dirt.”

This time, Kaimi couldn’t fight down her scowl. “She’s stronger than you think.”

“That’s what we’re hoping for,” Remy purred. “But two on one isn’t exactly a fair fight, yeah? That’ll totes be a spectacle.”

Emile sighed, smiling fondly. “Rem just loves the spotlight.” 

“What do you get out of it, then?” Kaimi asked, innocently as she could.

“Making him happy of course!” Emile nuzzled his husband before turning to the reporter. “But… let’s just say that after building people up for so long…” He tilted his head, the light glinting harshly off his glasses, obscuring his eyes. “I’ve found I much prefer tearing them down.”

“I see,” Kaimi said, fighting to keep her voice even. “So, after you ‘tear down’ Calamity, I suppose you’ll just…?”

“Pose for the insta!” Remy pushed his lips into a duck face. “Em deals with all the clean up.”

She looked at the therapist, at the bespeckled man in a sweater vest and pink tie who sat so calmly, so serenely across from her, even with a villain in his lap – a Powerful villain he had so easily partnered himself with. There was a cold sort of sharpness in his hazel eyes, so out of place in his jovial face.

“Well,” Emile said, smiling pleasantly. “Once we kill your girlfriend, you won’t be much use to us, now will you?”

“Oh,” Kaimi said, faintly, pressing the toe of her shoe into the ground until she felt a soft click.

  
  


Calamity was more glad than ever for the trackers Kaimi had put in the bottom of her own shoes ‘just in case’.

She stood outside the observatory at the edge of Pons Park, taking a deep breath. As much as she wanted to go charging in, guns blazing, she couldn’t risk her peach getting hurt in the crossfire. Tucking the tracker’s monitor back into her belt, she rolled her shoulders, bounced on her toes.

Even the Skype call she had made to Pakistan last week hadn't been this stressful.

“Okay,” she breathed. A wave of something suspiciously like fear welled up in her stomach, but she pushed it away. “C’mon, Calamity.”

She swallowed, squared her shoulders, and raised her gun.

  
  


Kaimi startled when the doors to the observatory shot open. The gunshot was still ringing in her ears as Remy cackled to himself, melting away into a cloud of sand.

“Showtime,” Emile laughed, sing-song.

The dusty light streamed in through the open doors, silhouetting a blocky figure with a gun in one hand and a shield in the other.

Despite everything, Kaimi couldn’t help her smile.

“Peach pickin’ season ain’t for another few months, so I’d ‘preciate it if ya’d let mine go.”

Calamity’s boots landed solidly on the cracking floor of the observatory as she strode forward, squinting through the goggles Virgil had given her.

_“Oh, there you are!”_

The voice seemed to come out of everywhere and nowhere at once, echoing out of the sand cloud around her.

“Calamity, you have no idea” - a face formed out of the sand, all leering lips and empty eye sockets - “how long I've been wanting to meet you!”

“Sandman, ain't it?” Calamity squared her shoulders, arched an eyebrow. “Can't say I'm as excited.” She raised her voice, never taking her eyes away from the nebulous figure before her. “Peach, you good?”

“I’m okay!” Kaimi’s voice, sweet and so achingly _beautiful_ to her ears, rang out from somewhere to her right. The tight bands that had constricted Katrina’s chest since that morning loosened, just the tiniest bit.

“Good,” Katrina said, voice soft and almost strangled before she cleared her throat and took a step forward. “Good,” she repeated, stronger, clicking off the safety. “That means this is gonna hurt a hell of a lot less for you, Sandman.”

“I wouldn’t be so sure about that.” The cloud condensed, shaping into a head, a torso, limbs. A man in a leather jacket and sunglasses stepped forward, grinning as he ran a hand through his shock of blue hair.

“Well,” Calamity snorted with a slow, lazy grin, “look what the coons dug up and the vultures wouldn't eat.”

The man before her made an affronted noise, splaying a hand over his chest. “Excuse you, babe, I am a snacc.”

“You're a four-course meal, turtleduck!” A bespeckled man in a sweater vest called.

Calamity blinked slowly. “Who the Sam Hill is this?”

“Emile Picani!” Kaimi called. “Local therapist, husband of Remington ‘Remy’ Picani, also known as The Sandman, and cartoon enthusiast. He’s originally from Gainesville, and he still holds a grudge over the way Gravity Falls ended.”

Emile startled, turning to his left. “How did you know all that?”

The sands parted just long enough for Katrina to catch a glimpse of Kaimi, resplendent in a mint-green hijab and a cheeky grin, shrug. “Journalist.”

Katrina felt the urge to throw the plan out the window and sprint to Kaimi’s side, heedless of any traps, but pushed it aside, digging her nails into her hands. She had trusted Kaimi this far. Damn if she was going to stop now.

“Now, I’m sure you’re wondering why I’m doing this,” Remy purred, raising a hand. Underneath him, a nebulous golden throne formed, his legs thrown over the side carelessly. “You see, Calamity, ever since The Prince disappeared from the scene, a few of us villains have been thinking to ourselves, how hard can it really be to take down one girl with a gun–”

_BANG_

Remy collapsed backwards, a bullet hole nestled directly between his eyes. The throne disappeared, melting away in an instant.

Picani sucked in a sharp breath, rushing to the edge of the mezzanine that overlooked the battle field.

“Plenty,” Calamity said. “And I ain’t much one for small talk.”

“Ugh,” Remy groaned, dragging himself to sitting. He rubbed at the hole in his head, now releasing a steady stream of sand. “Gurl, you’re no fun at _all_ , are you?”

She smiled thinly. “Naw,” she said and rushed forward.

The first blows took Remy by surprise, driving him back into the curved side of the observatory. Before he had time to recover, the shield bashed against him, Calamity’s perfect aim ensuring devastating accuracy each time it ricocheted off of his body. He gasped as chunks of sand were sheared off of his side, almost too quickly to be filled back in.

“Not cool, babes,” he gritted out before his side turned insubstantial. Calamity’s bullets hit it uselessly. Although they didn’t miss, they didn’t hurt either.

The vigilante rushed forward, ducking under a projectile and spinning around to kick the villain to the ground. He dissolved and reformed behind her. Before she could whirl around, he flung out an arm, cracking across her face and knocking her onto her back.

Calamity spat as she struggled back to her feet, wiping a line of blood from her mouth, and looked up, sharp eyes narrowing at the maze of pipelines running around the edge of the ceiling.

“Well,” she muttered, raising her pistol. “Fifty-fifty shot.”

The water line exploded, gallons of liquid rushing out in a tempestuous roar. 

“Damn, I’m glad that wasn’t the gas line,” Calamity muttered to herself before ducking and holding her breath.

For a solid minute, a niagara of water spewed through the room, soaking the sand in the air and weighing it down until it was a half-useless sodden mess.

Remy pouted. “Oh, that’s not fair. How am I supposed to see you now?”

“Talk to me ‘bout playin’ fair when ya stop kidnappin’ journalists,” Calamity snarled and drove forward again.

Remy was more than putting up a fight, but it was clear Calamity knew what she was doing. With the advantage of Roman and Virgil’s advice and tech behind her, she knew many of The Sandman’s weaknesses without him being aware of any of hers.

With the clearer air, the blind man couldn’t sense exactly where the vigilante was, but she most certainly knew where he was.

She darted around him – controlled, precise, and deadly. A blow to his temple sent him staggering forward, one to his back dropped him down to his knees, and a ferocious snap across the back of his head crumpled him to the ground. Calamity leapt forward again, but he dissolved, reforming a few feet away, swaying on his feet and breathing heavily.

“Not too bad for a girl with a gun, amiright?” Calamity drawled, smirking. With a wink, she threw a notepad and pencil at Kaimi. They landed perfectly in the reporter’s lap.

“Aw,” Kaimi cooed, flushing. “Babe, you remembered!”

Katrina smiled even as Remy, teeth gritted together, raised his hands to summon razor sharp projectiles. “‘Course I did, peach.”

Kaimi grinned, flipping to the first page and somehow taking perfect notes, even with her hands still bound together.

“Well, this is hardly fair, now is it?” Emile suddenly turned, adjusting his glasses and smiling down at the two locked in battle. “What, with all this bubbline content, there’s hardly any room for Marshal Lee and Prince Gumball. I’m feeling a bit left out, to be honest.”

“Actually,” Kaimi said, “what with the proportionally low number of women portrayed in the media, it’s important for sapphic content, especially that involving queer women of color, to be produced and thrive, even in fandoms where the majority or all of the characters are men, because it provides examples of healthy relationships for young sapphic girls, who may want to explore their sexualities through virtual content.”

“Huh,” Emile said, now standing next to his husband behind a wall of projectiles as Calamity tried to break through without getting shredded to pieces. “You know, I was just trying to be evil and vaguely threatening, but that’s a really good point.” He grabbed Remy’s hand and pulled him close. “Too bad we’re going to be falling into the ‘bury your gays’ trope.”

Kaimi’s eyes widened. “Calamity, no, don’t let them–!”

But it was too late.

The two spun around each other, faster and faster and faster until there was a blinding surge of light, and all the sand in the room surged forcibly towards the center of the room.

Calamity stumbled backwards, mouth dry. “What the…”

A massive man stood in the middle of the room, clad in a leather jacket and a pink bowtie. He stood almost twice as tall as Calamity, and nearly three times as wide. From behind tinted glasses, four pairs of eyes, two sand and two human, blinked out of their huge face. He stretched luxuriously, running black-painted fingers through his shock of pink hair.

“Oh,” they purred, grinning through fanged teeth. “That feels _fantastic_.”

“Fusion.” Kaimi sank back in her chair, swallowing hard. “Emile Picani’s Ability is fusion.”

“The whole is more than the sum of its parts, babes,” Remile said in their strange, rumbling voice. “And we are quite a whole.”

“An asshole, you mean?” Calamity deadpanned.

Remile tilted his head. Grinned.

In the next second, Calamity was on the ground, head aching.

“You totes don’t get to talk about my husband like that,” Remile rumbled, alighting delicately on the ground. “It gets me _all_ riled up.”

“Copy that,” Calamity groaned, pulling herself up.

Damn, she was glad her pockets zipped. 

Remile darted forward, impossibly fast, but Calamity flung up her shield just before he made impact, corded arm muscles straining as she heaved, hurling them back across the room. 

Kaimi took a moment to appreciate that she was the world’s luckiest lesbian.

Remile landed against the curved walls, long arms holding him effortlessly in place, sprawled out like a spider. Peering through their tinted glasses at the vigilante, his four eyes scrunched in amusement. “You don’t give up easy, do you, sweetheart?”

“Don’t call me sweetheart,” Calamity spat, arm flying out and shield spinning close behind. The silver plate hurtled through the air, smacking into Remile and knocking them off the wall, skittering to the ground.

They rolled when they landed, skidding to a stop a few feet away from the vigilante.

“What,” he said, smile somewhere between Remy’s smirk and Emile’s empty pleasantness. “Can’t take a compliment?”

“Can’t take a hit?” She snarled, rushing forward again. 

His torso jerked horrifically with each blow she dealt, swaying and falling black into place like a marionette on strings being pelted with paper wads. Yet, Remile just seemed amused as he absorbed her blows, his four eyes rolling at strange angles as that smile beamed out, sharp as any dagger.

He wasn’t bleeding.

“You’ll find that we can.”

A chill ran down Calamity’s spine, but she ignored it in favor of digging through her holster for Virgil’s canisters.

Remile easily ducked, letting the orbs fly over his head. He pouted at her, mock-sympathetic. “You missed.”

Upstairs, Kaimi shifted forward in her seat, eyes sparkling.

A slow, deadly smile passed over the vigilante’s face. “Oh, haven’t ya heard?”

The canisters arched around and smashed into the back of Remile’s head, dousing them with acid. He howled, an inhuman, eldritch cry that shook the sands around them as the acid ate into his skull, burning away chunks of hair and sand.

Calamity darted forward, planting a canister at the back of his knees, his elbows, the base of his neck – watching him sizzle away bit by bit. He screamed, giant hands swiping at her as she barely danced around his swings.

His cries suddenly cut off as, with perfect accuracy, she lobbed the last canister down their throat.

He collapsed onto the ground like his strings had been cut.

She looked down at the crumpled form beneath her and spat. “I never miss.”

_“Kat.”_

Her name came from upstairs – breathless and adoring.

In a flash, Katrina dashed up the steps and skidded to a stop, dropping to her knees before her girlfriend.

“That was amazing,” Kaimi breathed, looking at her with those gorgeous eyes.

 _“Kaimi,”_ she replied, cupping the other woman’s face in her hands. Kaimi sighed softly, leaning into the touch. “Ya alright, peach? They didn’t hurt ya, did they?”

The reporter shook her head. “I’m okay.”

The tension dropped from Katrina’s shoulders, and she led herself slump forward, resting her forehead against the other woman’s. “God, peach, I was worried sick. We all were.”

Kaimi winced. “Oh, I didn’t even think about… are the boys and Patton okay?”

Katrina huffed out a laugh. “Practically had to tie Logan down to keep him from runnin’ in here after ya.” She leaned back and reached into her boot for a knife to cut Kaimi’s ropes with. “We’ll all be doin’ fine once you’re home safe.”

The reporter nodded, tapping her notebook. “I think I’ve got what– _watch out!”_

Everything hurt.

She had fallen.

Her ears rang.

Grit dug beneath her nails.

A massive face, slowly piecing itself back together, loomed above her.

“Not cool, gurl.” Remile scowled and grabbed ahold of Katrina’s braid, dragging her up. “Totes not cool at all.”

Katrina struggled against him, thrashing in his grasp. They jerked on her braid, releasing a childish, gleeful giggle when her feet kicked uselessly in the air.

She snarled and slashed out with the knife, cutting deep into his arm. They flinched back, dropping her.

She hit the ground with a roll, gun out and shield ready as soon as she landed. “This is a load of bull malarkey,” she informed them. “I don’t even wanna think about the biochemical implications of fabricatin’ stem cells from inanimate matter.”

Remile paused. Blinked.

“What?”

“Doesn’t half of you have a doctorate?” She snapped.

“Well, yeah,” they admitted, somewhat reluctantly, as they twirled their wrist, pushing sand claws through their skin. “But med school was a while back. Besides,” they added, lunging forward and tearing shallow gashes into Calamity’s shield, “a therapist is totes not the same as a general practitioner, babes.”

“Yeah, but still,” Calamity insisted, ducking between their legs and shooting a bullet directly into the base of their spine, “as a biologist, I’m upset on roughly ten accounts now.”

“Honey,” Kaimi chimed in from upstairs, “I don’t think now is the best time to bring up your professional grudges.”

“It’s _biologically impossible_ for them to regenerate like that, peach! I’m madder than a wet hen in a rainstorm!”

Remile giggled, their head doing a complete one-eighty before the rest of their body followed. “You’re kinda lit, babe. It’s almost, like, a tragedy imma kill you.”

“Not too late to call it a day and part as friends,” Katrina suggested, driving her shield into their stomach and flipping them over her head.

“Don’t worry about me,” they said, landing on their feet, four eyes gleaming behind their tinted glasses. “I’ve got plenty of friends.”

He pressed forward relentlessly, hurtling projectiles and rushing around her, inhumanly fast, as his strange rumbling voice filled the air, dark and deadly.

“Babe, are you humming ‘Stronger Than You’ right now?” Remile asked themself before they shrugged. “Seemed appropriate.”

“You really think this makes ya stronger than me?” Calamity spat. “Havin’ to run to ya husband just because you couldn’t take me by ya lonesome–”

Something hit her side like a Mac truck, and Katrina’s head slammed against the wall, a flash of white taking over her vision and a sudden ringing screaming in her ears. Bizarrely, Calamity’s mind flashed to a silver mirror and green shawl, tucked safely beneath her bed. She still needed to use them.

She had to.

A hand closed around her throat, growing tighter and more solid as it slowly lifted her into the air.

“What is it, babe?” Remile panted, human eyes wild and sand eyes rolling around at strange angles. “No clever retort?” His hand tightened. “No _witty comment,_ Calamity?”

Calamity desperately clawed at the massive hand, but her fingers passed through it uselessly. Her muscled arms were growing weaker by the second, until they dropped uselessly to her sides, hands grazing her holsters.

A jolt of motion caught her rapidly-blurring eyes.

Kaimi had leapt out of her chair, holding her rope-bound wrists out to the side, making wide, desperate eyes at the other woman. Darkness closing in on the edge of her vision, Calamity managed to raise her gun with a shaking hand. In a split second, she fired.

She didn’t see what happened next. The darkness took over.

“-mity. Calamity? Kat?!”

A soft hand was patting Katrina’s cheek, a sweet, soft voice calling her names with increasing desperation.

With a feeling like pushing a ten-ton boulder up a hill, Katrina cracked her eyes open.

Kaimi was hovering over her, face flushed and glowing with panic, brown skin gorgeous against her mint-green hijab, especially with the dusty light streaming in behind her. Her eyes were wide, but Katrina could see, despite everything, the sharpness, the wit, the eternal cleverness and earnestness that had given her no choice but to fall for the other woman.

“Always jus’ as pretty as a peach, huh?” Calamity said, voice rough as she struggled to sit up.

Relief flooded Kaimi’s eyes.

“Kat,” she breathed, falling forward, burying her face in the other woman’s shoulder. “I thought…”

Katrina let out a hoarse chuckle, rubbing at her reddening throat. “Like you can get rid of me that easy.”

Kaimi smiled, blinking away the mist in her eyes. “I get to be stuck with you, then?”

And Katrina couldn’t help but kiss her.

“‘Til the day we die, if I have anythin’ to stay ‘bout it,” she said, softly, when they parted. A warm glow settled in Kaimi’s chest as she tucked a lock of her girlfriend’s hair behind her ear, wondering how the vigilante managed to turn everyday words into love songs.

“Aw,” Kaimi teased instead of expressing her affection because, above all, she was a disaster lesbian, “you’re just saying that because I knocked out a supervillain for you.”

“What?” Calamity startled, jumping to her feet. Her sharp eyes alighted on the villain’s crumpled form, groaning as they barely stirred on the ground, a slow trickle of sand ebbing in to fill in the dent in their head.

“I took care of it,” Kaimi said, grinning as she casually nudged a banged-up fire extinguisher away with her foot.

Calamity went wide eyed. “How did ya…?”

Kaimi attempted an innocent batting of her eyes, the effect somewhat ruined by her smug smirk. “People tend not to count the Unabled girl in a hijab as a threat. Not even when she’s right behind them with a fire extinguisher and a lot of pent-up aggression.”

Katrina blinked at her. “I am incredibly in love with you.”

The smug expression intensified. “I’m aware.” Her eyes widened. “But I think we have more pressing concerns than flirting right now.”

“What could possibly be more – shit!” Katrina yelped as the being on the ground began to pull themself up.

Kaimi hissed out a curse, falling back. “I thought I hit them hard enough!”

“They’re made ‘a sand, Peach. ‘Less you can make ‘em into diamonds, I doubt anythin’d’ be hard enough.” The vigilante shifted forward, pulling the shield off of her arm and handing it to the other woman. “Watch ya’self, alright?”

“Calamity, wait–!”

But the vigilante was already moving.

The blows came fast and furious – fists and projectiles raining down on each of them mercilessly. A gash slashed down Calamity’s cheek. Remile’s arm was shot off, it’s replacement slow to form. With a fearsome crack across the jaw, Remile’s head snapped back. He half-chuckled, spitting out a tooth.

“Rude.”

He summoned his strength, and the floor _heaved_ under Calamity, knocking her against the walls and tumbling to the floor.

Kaimi cried out as the vigilante staggered to her feet.

“You good there, babe?” Remile panted, flashing a crooked, venomous grin. “You know, you’re quite the interesting case study. Usually, when faced with taking an L repeatedly, subjects tend to call it quits. But you…” They shook their head, sand eyes streaming with a golden parody of tears. “You totes don’t know when to give up, do you?”

Calamity snarled wordlessly, closing the gap and unleashing a fury of gunshots and blows with her shield.

A bullet caught the side of Remile’s torso before it managed to go insubstantial, and everything seemed to stop for a moment as a slow trickling of blood and sand ebbed out.

“Oh,” Calamity said, before a slow, deadly smile crossed her face. “So you _do_ bleed.”

Remile’s face went pale for a moment before twisting into a mask of a panicked sort of rage. Calamity was unrelenting – exploiting his weak spots, tearing his concentration ten different ways, until he could barely hold control over his creations.

They flinched back, dropping the swirling winds and projectiles, to send out a typhoid of sand, nearly crushing the vigilante as she barely managed to dive out of the way.

“Kat!” Kaimi cried, dashing through the tempest, huddled behind her girlfriend’s shield. Once she reached the vigilante’s side, she plunged the titanium-plated barrier into the ground, creating a tiny haven against the observatory’s curved side.

“Kaimi!” Katrina hissed, braid thrashing behind her as she whirled on her girlfriend. “I told you to watch ya’self.”

Kaimi narrowed her eyes. “I’m not going to just hide and let you get sheared to pieces by a stupid sand storm!”

“I have feelings, you know,” Remile said.

“Shut up,” the disaster lesbians said, in unison, before turning back to each other.

“And I can’t let ya just throw ya’self into a fight!” Katrina snapped back. “We had a plan, Kaimi.”

“The plan didn’t account for me having to watch the woman I love get beaten into a bloody pulp, now did it?” Kaimi grit her jaw.

“Then tell me how else we’re supposed to get out of here alive, peach!” Calamity leapt up to smash a cackling sand gnome into the ground, spinning her body to both cover Kaimi and fire off a round at the fusion. “Because I sure as hell am takin’ suggestions!”

“You know,” Remile said, wiggling his fingers to send another wave of sand golems, leering with their razor-sharp teeth, “I happen to know a great cartoon-based couples therapist, if you’re looking–“

“We’re in the middle of something!” The disaster lesbians snapped over the shield.

“Don’t you have any more acid?!” Kaimi cried, stomping a golem beneath her dress flats.

“Used it all up the _first time_ we knocked out this bugger.” Calamity deftly swept out a leg to disintegrate a whole line of the relentless monsters. “And unless ya got anything else to blow ‘em up with, we’re outta options on that front.”

“I totes love to see that you guys are tackling complex, real world problems as a couple,” Remile cooed. “So adorbs.”

“We’re not guys,” the women snarled.

“This is transphobic,” Kaimi muttered, ducking behind the shield as Remile sent a massive sandstorm their way.

“Because he misgendered you?” Katrina asked, trying to think of more creative and painful ways to kill the villain.

“Oh, I was thinking more that I’m trans and this is inconveniencing me. Or that they’re trying to murder me,” Kaimi admitted. “Or that they misgendered me. Actually, this whole thing is transphobic.”

“I don’t know what to do with him,” Calamity hissed, murderous imagination exhausted, ducking out from behind the shield and shooting off a quick round at Remile, grimacing when the bullets only managed to bury themselves in sand. “I’m hittin’ him, but it doesn’t make a difference if it don’t hurt him!”

Kaimi looked up, eyes narrowing as a thought solidified in her mind.

“Shoot the gas line.”

“Are you insane?” Calamity hissed, rounding on her. “That’ll blow this whole joint!”

Kaimi’s steely gaze didn’t waver. “Hey,” she said, softly. “Do you trust me?”

She shouldn’t have had to ask. Did Calamity trust the woman who had faced down media corporations to tell The Truth to the world? Did she trust the woman who had met her gaze so boldly after the riot? Did she trust the woman who had saved her from a life alone, who had introduced her to the family she had never dared to hope for?

Of course she did. To hell and back, Katrina trusted her.

Without hesitation, Calamity nodded.

Kaimi smiled, thin. “Then put up your shield and pull the trigger.”

Squeezing her eyes shut, Katrina did.

The world went up in flames.

Next thing she knew, Calamity was on the smoldering ground, her shield above her and Kaimi huddled against her side. The titanium-plated metal groaned under the weight of broken beams and concrete, but held firm. Calamity’s arm trembled under the force, but she held steady as Kaimi stirred next to her.

“You good, peach?” She rasped out.

Kaimi nodded, brow furrowed as she looked around at the crumbling building around them. “You?”

Katrina took a mental stock before gasping. “I can’t feel my leg!”

The reporter shot her a deadpan look. “That stopped being funny the fiftieth time.”

A roguish grin took over Calamity’s face as she sat up, heaving against the shield to clear the rubble stacked up on top of it. “I’ll have you know that I think I’m _hilarious,_ darlin’.”

Her legs – one flesh, one metal – rooted firmly on the ground as she leaned down to give Kaimi a hand up. The reporter took it with an arched eyebrow.

“That makes one of us.”

Calamity made offended southern asexual noises.

“Did you just make offended southern asexual noises?” Kaimi stared at her. “How did you make them so distinct?”

“I’ve been taking notes from Ro’s offended princey noises.”

“Makes sense.”

Katrina looked around. “Where’s–”

The floor dropped out from beneath her.

Katrina crashed down, stomach-first, onto a steel beam. The air left her in a painful rush, and she collapsed, falling another few feet until she went limp on the bare concrete, every nerve in her body crying out in agony.

Above her, Remile, panting and bleeding and wild-eyed, clutched their arm, bent at a sickening angle, to his chest. “Are you done now, sweetheart?”

His jacket was torn and his hair matted with blood and sand, but there was a sort of incredulity in his eyes as he stared down at the vigilante, so small and broken compared to him.

Katrina gritted her jaw.

She took a breath. Another. Looked up to see Kaimi, eyes grim and determined as she reached down and took a broken pipe into her hand.

Despite everything, Calamity smiled.

Neither woman was going to stop fighting any time soon.

Katrina wobbled as she moved, every muscle and tendon in her body screaming at her to give up, sit down, surrender. Pushing past the agony, she stood, slowly, glaring up at the man before her with fire in her plain brown eyes.

Wiping a line of blood off of her forehead, Calamity bared her teeth. “What, _sweetheart?”_ Her hand went to her holster. “Not even gonna give me a round two?”

Remile flinched back, and Calamity huffed out a laugh. “Thought not.”

He visibly startled, clutching his fractured arm to their chest before a thin smile crossed his lips. “Guess you are just as tough as she said.”

Katrina gritted her jaw, stepping forward. “And don’t ya forget it.”

“Don’t worry.” His glasses slipped down, yellow eyes shining out. “You’ve seen the last of me.”

They dissipated slowly, drifting away on the wind and spiraling out through a cracked glass window.

Calamity let her legs give out, slumping down on a rickety broken beam.

“Well,” Kaimi said, eventually. “That was informative.”

Her voice snapped Katrina out of her daze, and the vigilante rounded on the reporter. “Honestly, peach!” she fussed, brushing sand off of her girlfriend. “There’s much easier ways to go ‘n’ get a scoop than gettin’ ya’self kidnapped by some supervillain!”

“Their name is Remile,” Kaimi said with dignity, adjusting her sleeves, “and he’s a married couple fused into one villainous being.”

Calamity shot her a distressed look, and the reporter softened, entangling her fingers in her girlfriend’s.

“Hey,” Kaimi said, squeezing. “I’m okay. I’m right here. I mean, we knew this was going to happen when we released that photo.”

“Still can’t believe how many o’ your hare-brained schemes ya drag me inta,” Katrina grumbled. “Getting yourself kidnapped on purpose? Really?”

“If Virgil taught us anything, it's that villainous monologues are real,” Kaimi quipped. “I couldn't deprive myself and my readers of one!”

Katrina conceded, a bitter smile flickering at the corners of her mouth. “Jus’ wish it hadn’t happened tonight.”

Kaimi laughed ironically. “I don’t know. If there’s any way for us to celebrate our two-year anniversary, this seems the most in-character.”

“I had plans,” Katrina grumbled. Kaimi was sand-free, for the most part, but the vigilante kept fussing over her, brushing nonexistent granules from her shoulders. Her hands were shaking as she touched cool, gentle fingers to Kaimi’s rope-burned wrists.

“Hey,” Kaimi said again, softer, capturing one of Katrina’s hands and cupping it against her own face. “I'm okay, Kat. I'm right here. I'm okay. We’re okay.”

Katrina swallowed hard, brushing her thumb over the sweep of Kaimi’s cheek. “I was so scared,” she confessed. “I know ya can handle ya self, but I jus’... I jus’ kept thinkin’ what if somethin’ went wrong? If… if Virge and Ro were wrong ‘bout how ta take this guy and I couldn't do my part and ya got _hurt–”_

Kaimi surged forward, pressing herself against Katrina’s chest, tightening her arms around the vigilante’s middle. “I’m okay,” she said, holding Katrina tight enough that she could be convinced Kaimi was real. “I’m here, and I’m okay, and I love you. You’re okay too, right?”

“Fine.” Katrina let the tension that she had been carrying all day drop, sagging into Kaimi’s arms, resting her chin on her head. “No more, okay, Kaimi?” She blinked away the mist in her eyes, voice wavering. “I know you gotta do what you gotta do, and I’d never try ta stand in your way, but…” She shook her head then pressed her forehead to Kaimi’s. “No more close calls, okay?”

“Okay,” Kaimi said, softly. “I promise.”

They stood there, in the wreckage and the rubble, bleeding and bruised, pressed together, holding on until sirens started to wail in the distance.

“I think that’s our cue,” Katrina said with an ironic laugh, slowly pulling away. “Reckon I better save Valerie the trouble ‘a try’n to arrest me for the fiftieth time.”

Kaimi chuckled, taking Katrina’s hand. “I’m telling you, we’re going to have to add her to the holiday card list at this rate.”

“Not now, I’ve got a better idea.”

Kaimi sighed. “Don’t tell me, it’s–”

“Hawaiian pizza?” Calamity offered with a small smirk. “Turkey bacon, just for ya.”

Kaimi groaned. “Why do you insist on rebelling against the natural laws of the universe like this?”

“Pineapple on pizza is amazin’, and I won’t stand this slander any longer.”

Kaimi laughed, letting her forehead fall onto Katrina’s shoulder. “You’re ridiculous,” she said, softly, tenderly.

Katrina pressed a kiss to the top of her head. “I love you too.”

“Oh, hey,” Kaimi remembered as Katrina began to guide her out of the crumbling building, picking their way around broken boards and fallen beams, “you said you had plans? What were they?”

Katrina just smiled and touched the edge of the velvet box in her pocket. “I'll tell ya later, peach.”

**Author's Note:**

> :D
> 
> Thank you so much for indulging my disaster lesbians addiction, you beautiful, beautiful people.
> 
> Also, public opinion poll: I'm 8.6k into an M-rated roceit cracky friends with benefits to angsty lovers fic that is somehow posed to be the longest one-shot I've ever written (Patton didn't want to be unsympathetic, Deceit tried to infiltrate a plate of pancakes, and Roman can't find his pants). It has logical places to break off, so would you rather I just post the story as 1-3k chapters relatively soon, or upload the whole (est. ~10k) fic at once, at some point in the next month hopefully?
> 
> Anyway, much love to Momo, and all the others that take the time to read! I absolutely adore every single kudo, bookmark, and comment that y'all give me. Thank you so, so much <3
> 
> but yeah, roast me if you see a typo, Cowards.


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